


i see my beauty in you

by kingandqueeninthenorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingandqueeninthenorth/pseuds/kingandqueeninthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They crash into each other, Robb holding her up as she cries. He is bruised and bloody and broken, but he is still Robb, and he is all she ever wanted. Sansa cries and runs her fingers over his battle scars, feeling puckered skin and bloody memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i see my beauty in you

Her mother runs a brush through her hair, and combs a few of the tangles out with just her fingers. Lady Catelyn’s touch is soft and loving, her nimble fingers making quick work of Sansa’s auburn braids.

“You’re beautiful, Sansa. You’re far more beautiful than I was at your age,” her mother says softly. Sansa can hear the smile in her voice.

_Beautiful,_ Sansa thinks. Just like the maidens they sing about in her beloved songs.

“Maybe they’ll write songs about me one day,” Sansa says.

“Maybe,” Catelyn agrees. “You’re very beautiful. No one can deny that.”

It’s the first of many times Sansa will hear it.

—-

“They could be twins,” one of her father’s lesser lords says when he arrives at Winterfell.

Sansa stands Between Robb, who is tall and stoic like their father, and Arya, who fidgets and shifts her weight from foot to foot anxiously.

 “They favor their mother,” her lord father explains, looking from Robb to Sansa. His eyes then fall on Arya. “Arya has my look.”

“You have beautiful children,” the lord’s wife says with a warm smile.

Her eyes linger on Robb and Sansa, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

—-

The serving girls giggle when Robb passes and blush when he looks their way.

“He’s so handsome,” one of them says when he’s out of earshot.

Sansa’s stomach knots. A very small voice in the back of her mind whispers,  _mine._

—-

Sansa stares at her reflection in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair. It glows redder than ever in the candlelight, giving her an ethereal look. Her own blue eyes stare back at her, but she sees Robb.

_Beautiful._

_—-_

Bran is enamored with the idea of knighthood, and he insists that Robb and Sansa play along. He names Robb a king and Sansa his queen, while Arya is left to play the evil monster who steals the queen away.

Bran plays a knight to Robb, helping to rescue Sansa from Arya’s evil clutches.  Arya makes for a good monster, never shying away from playing a grotesque character. “I’m fearless,” she always says, but Sansa knows it isn’t true.

_I’m too old for such games,_ she thinks as she waits for Bran and Robb to emerge from the trees and rescue her. Arya has gotten much better at finding places to hide her, which means a lot of waiting around for her brothers to find her and save her.

But she waits, because she knows that when Robb finds her, he’ll sweep her in his arms dramatically and kiss her cheek.

And that makes all the waiting worth it.

—-

She wonders just exactly what it is that makes her beautiful. She wonders if it’s her Tully coloring, or the way her voice seems to take flight when she sings. She often thinks that maybe it’s just something mothers and fathers say to their children, and that there isn’t any truth to it at all.

But she is certain that Robb is beautiful. Everything about him is beautiful. His laugh is full and boyish, his eyes bright and clear. His hair catches the sunlight during the day and shines like polished copper. He smells like the godswood and his heart beats like a steady drum, almost as if it’s part of a song.

And if Robb is beautiful, then she must be too.

—-

“Just once more,” Bran begs. “Before we leave for King’s Landing.”

So Robb and Sansa play king and queen again. Robb rescues her, just like we always does, and sweeps her toward him before ordering Bran to capture Arya.

She plays along with the game, holding onto Robb and breathing him in. He smells of warmth and wood, his heart beating reassuringly against her.

Arya puts up a good fight, pretending to be slain by Bran’s wooden sword.

Robb laughs and she feels it rumble in his chest. Something inside Sansa clenches, and she thinks that maybe she wouldn’t mind if it weren’t a game.

—-

There are snowflakes melting in his hair when she hugs him. His cheeks are red from the cold, but his lips are warm when he kisses her cheek.

She thinks of how he kissed her goodbye in the crypts, a kiss that was far from brotherly.

—-

The capital is nothing like she dreamt.

Sansa stares at her bruised reflection in the mirror. Her eye is black and the welt on her cheek is as red as her hair.

She is hardly beautiful now.

—-

She waits for Robb.

_He will come,_ she tells herself.  _He has rescued me a thousand times before._

—-

“Smile, dear,” Cersei says as they break their fast. “You’re wasting your precious beauty.”

Sansa is acutely aware of the bruises and gashes beaneath her gown.

She has never felt uglier.

—-

Queen Daenerys crushes the Lannisters.  Sansa should fear for her life. Her father was no friend to the Targaryens, and the new queen has no reason to keep her alive. Without the Lannisters, she has very little purpose in King’s Landing.

In fact, she has very little purpose anywhere. Or so it seems.

But all Sansa can think about is Robb.

—-

Robb is defeated, but she is returned to him all the same. The dragon queen in kinder than she could’ve hoped for.

They crash into each other, Robb holding her up as she cries. He is bruised and bloody and broken, but he is still  _Robb,_ and he is all she ever wanted. Sansa cries and runs her fingers over his battle scars, feeling puckered skin and bloody memories.

She bears scars of her own, both mentally and physically. She is bedraggled and thin, and hardly the girl that left Winterfell, but he says her name like a prayer. His fingers dig into her as though he is afraid she may slip out of his grasp.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, burying his nose in her hair.

Robb is disheveled and filthy and utterly defeated, but he is so beautiful.

And if Robb is beautiful, then Sansa must be too.


End file.
